Dimileth Week 2019
by Daxmvarg
Summary: A series of short chapters for Dimileth Week 2019 featuring our favorite professor and student
1. Chapter 1

**Modern AU**

* * *

It all started when Byleth smacked her head against the table.

It was unintentional of course—she had been reaching for her laptop bag and badly misjudged the distance between the edge of the table and her head. What ensued was a loud jarring _crash_ that caused everyone inside the dinky little coffeehouse to jump.

He was one of those who jumped.

Instantly, the people closest to her began asking her if she was alright, the barista offering to get an ice pack from the back. Byleth had declined, of course. She had always been raised to never take charity from people—courtesy of her father—but she was heartened by how much everyone seemed to care for her.

She supposed she was something of a regular at the coffeehouse. She had spent countless nights there when she was in high school, doing homework and taking the occasional nap while she waited for her father to get off work. Once she went into college, she started frequenting the place less and less, though she still stopped by every week just do drop in and say hi to her friends working there.

Slowly, one by one, the rest of the people inside the coffeehouse returned to their own business. The barista tossed the makeshift ice-pack in a nearby trash. The old man in the corner that was always reading a thick ledger of a book rolled his eyes and buried his head behind its pages again.

But one of the people who jumped, a tall, lean-looking man with blonde hair, walked over to her, knelt down, and picked up her laptop bag for her. "Maybe next time, try opening your eyes before you bend down to pick something?" he offered.

Byleth rubbed the bruise that would be undoubtedly forming on her forehead over the next few weeks. "Sorry," she said, "I'm usually a lot more…conscious of my surroundings."

"What made this time any different?" the man asked, smiling.

In response, Byleth pointed at the dark bags under her eyes. "Oh, the usual. Stress, insomnia, poor life choices. Everything that came with going to college."

The man's eyebrows lifted in amusement. "Is that so?" he said, rubbing his chin. He frowned, suddenly, and Byleth suddenly couldn't help but feel self-conscious of herself as his gaze roved over her.

"Don't…don't you go to Garreg Mach University?" he asked suddenly.

Byleth blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "O=oh, um, yeah. I do," she answered. "How did you know?"

In response, the man gestured with his head to the logo emblazoned on the front of her jacket. "Just assumed, you know. It's not every day you run into someone wearing a jacket with the logo of one of the most prestigious schools in all of Fódlan stitched onto it and _not_ have them attending."

Byleth caught the hidden meaning behind the man's words. "You go to Garreg Mach too?" she asked.

The man nodded. He pulled up a chair from a nearby table, nodding graciously to the couple sitting there, and sat down in front of Byleth. "I do," he answered. "I'm studying to be a—"

Suddenly, he clamped his mouth shut and looked away, a tinge of red coloring his cheeks.

"Studying to become what?" Byleth asked, a small smile on her lips. She couldn't place a finger on it, but there was something oddly…charming about the flustered look on his face.

"I-it's nothing," the man said. "Forget I said anything."

"Come on," Byleth said, resting her chin in her hand. "What is it?"

"I-it's nothing," the man repeated again. "It's…it's really not that interesting."

Byleth frowned and kicked him playfully under the table. "Come on, you," she said.

Even as she flashed him a teasing smile, Byleth could feel cold shivers traveling down her back. What was she doing? She never acted this way in public, even with the few friends she had. She preferred keeping to herself, not talking until someone else came up to her to start a conversation, yet here she was, teasing a playfully kicking a guy she just met!

In fairness, however, the man was rather good-looking, with a strong, well-defined chin. Though he wore a sweater, Byleth could tell that he was definitely packing some muscle, and the face…the more Byleth looked at the man's face, the more she felt her blood rush to her face.

Thankfully, if the man was aware of her inner conflict, he did not show it. He groaned and tapped his finger nervously before finally sighing and dropping his head to the table.

"Promise you won't tell anyone?" he asked.

Byleth smiled. "Promise."

The man sat up again and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm…majoring in dance."

Byleth's jaw dropped. "Dance?" she repeated. "As in, ballet?"

The man flushed red again and looked away. "That's one of the styles I'm learning, but yes, we…do learn ballet."

Part of Byleth was tempted to laugh, the other part was tempted to sit back and keep her word, but Byleth ultimately decided to take the more mature option and opted to sit back, clasping her hands together.

"You probably think me as a fool," the man said, still refusing to look at her. "What kind of man gets accepted into Garreg Mach University and ends up taking _dance_ of all things?"

"A smart one," Byleth said without thinking. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather learn how to dance than learn how to become a teacher."

"You?" the man asked, finally looking back at her. "You're studying to become a teacher?"

"That's the hope, anyway," Byleth said tiredly, gesturing to the massive stack of papers contained in her dinky little binder. "You know how much work they give us? I could probably write a book using these notes!"

"If you were to become a writer, I would buy and read all of your books," the man said suddenly. "I would commit them to memory."

Byleth blinked, surprised at the sudden statement. "Wait, what?"

The man stared back at her, confused before the thought of what he just said crossed his mind. "Oh, gods," he said, clutching at his head. "I-I didn't just say that, did I?"

"You did," Byleth said. "You said you would buy and read all my books should I become a writer and that you would commit them to memory."

The man groaned and slumped forward. "Oh gods dammit," he said. "I apologize for my forwardness. I wasn't—"

"It's fine," Byleth said, charmed once again by the flustered look on his face. "If you became a dancer, I would go to all your performances."

The man lifted his head and looked at her in surprise. "Wait, really?"

Byleth nodded. "I would," she said, smiling.

* * *

It all started because of his awkward promise/compliment.

When her roommate finally texted her to tell her that she was outside in the car, waiting for her, Byleth hurriedly began gathering her materials.

"S-sorry for cutting this short!" she apologized, struggling to shove her textbook in her backpack. "My roommate just called and she's waiting for me."

"It's fine," the man said, waving a hand dismissively. "There'll be another time."

Byleth frowned as she ran an eye over the table, making sure she wasn't leaving anything. As cozy and hospitable as the coffeehouse may be, people were still prone to having their stuff stolen if they weren't careful.

"I don't think I ever learned your name," she said to the man.

The man blinked and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Oh, uh, I guess that's true. Please forgive me." Rising to his feet, he twisted his hand over his chest in some sort of old-fashioned salute and bowed. "Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, at your service, but you may just call me Dimitri."

Byleth smiled and likewise curtsied as best she could with a heavy backpack, a laptop bag, and two textbooks in her arms. "In that case, my name is Byleth Eisner."

"Byleth," Dimitri said, letting her name roll off his tongue. For some reason, Byleth liked the way he said her name. "Byleth. Byleth…Byleth."

"Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri," Byleth replied.

Dimitri flinched, as if he just realized she was still standing there. "Oh!" he said. "Um, if you don't mind me being so forward again, do you mind if you…give me your number?"

"M-my number?" Byleth asked.

Dimitri hastily stuck his hands in his pocket. "O-of course, if you don't want to, that's fine. I just thought it would be…fun to talk to you more, learn more about you."

Byleth couldn't help but smile as she got her phone out of her back pocket. "Of course," she said. "I hope to learn more about you too."

* * *

Her roommate was _not_ happy when Byleth finally exited the coffeehouse. She had been waiting outside for almost _five_ minutes! _Five!_ Yet when Byleth all but bounded out of the coffeehouse, a wide smile plastered on her face, Robin couldn't but loosen the scowl on her face.

"What took you so long?" she asked.

"I just got a guy's number!" Byleth said, practically breathless. "I just got my first number!"

"What?" Robin asked, eyes wide. "You better not be—are you joking?"

In response, Byleth showed Robin her phone screen. There, in black letters were the words "Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd." Robin's jaw dropped.

"You—oh my gods." She pulled Byleth into a hug, squealing excitedly. "Oh my gods! You finally did it! You finally got a boyfriend!"

Byleth pulled back. "W-wait, what?" she asked. "A-a boyfriend?"

"Of course, you dolt!" Robin said, taking her hand in her own. "Didn't you two set up a meeting place or something?"

"Oh, um, I guess?" Byleth asked. "I-I told him I'll always be here on Tuesday and Friday nights, and he said he'll be there next Tuesday."

Robin rolled her eyes as she peeled out of the parking lot. "Oh, you're so innocent, you," she said in a babying voice. "Don't worry, when we get back to the dorms, I'll tell you everything I know! But until then…tell me, Byleth, how's he like?"

"Oh, well, um, he's pretty nice…"

* * *

It all started because of an awkward movie date. Then one movie date turned into two movies. Then three. Then four.

And then the movie dates turned into a restaurant date. And then a formal dinner date.

It was only until their second or third dinner date that Byleth finally kissed him. One kiss turned into two, and then two into three, and before Byleth knew it, she was lying on her bed, back arched, eyes closed, and mouth open in a silent moan as Dimitri eased himself into her.

_That_ night was, quite frankly, the first time Byleth had slept easy.

It wouldn't be the last.

* * *

It all started with a thoughtless comment.

Byleth would never forget the day she walked out on Dimitri after a passing remark. She had been particularly stressed that week—finals were coming, she had almost four projects to finish, but most terrifying of all, her father was in the hospital.

It had been a hit and run, the police told her. He had been walking down a street for one of his nightly strolls when a gang of teenagers who thought their balls were a lot bigger than their mouths decided to hurl a brick at him. The brick had collided with his head, putting him in a coma.

Two weeks later, he flatlined.

Byleth had truly cried when she heard the news. Dimitri had immediately rushed over to her to hug her and hold her close. He knew nothing of what just happened, nor did he ask, yet when Byleth later travelled back home to visit her father, Dimitri casually asked, "What for? Visiting your dad?"

It was a casual question, no malice intended, yet it ended with Byleth screaming into Dimitri's face, slamming the door on him, and ignoring him for nearly five years after that.

She missed him.

She missed his warm arms, his steady grip, his deep, melodious voice.

But she missed her father more.

* * *

It all started when she was visiting a friend.

She had decided to visit Garreg Mach University one day, both because Robin was in the area and she wanted to see her, but also to see how the school had changed. Hanneman was still his eccentric usual self, and Manuela looked younger than ever, even with a hair or two turning gray, but she was genuinely shocked when she saw a familiar mop of yellow hair splayed out over a bench.

She had been walking in the park, waiting for Robin when she saw him. He was lying on one of the park's bench, a thick coat pulled over his shoulders. Byleth had been unaware of the man's identy at first, but when she edged closer, the man suddenly turned his head and—

Byleth screamed.

It was him.

It was Dimitri.

But at the same time…it was not.

Gone was the youthful and joyful look in his eyes. Gone was the easy smile on his face. Gone was the sense of grandeur and chivalry he always portrayed himself as. Instead, a permanent scowl was fixed on his face, his personality brusque and cynical.

He was taller, much taller. Before, Byleth's head reached up to his nose. Now, barely up to his shoulder. He was a lot more muscular too, yet despite the extra mass, he looked smaller, as if space pushed and molded him into a compact shape instead of him taking up and occupying space.

And his eye…

Once upon a time, there were two orbs of blue, both bright, charming and cheerful. Now there was only one, burning with anger and rage and coldness and…

…self-loathing.

Robin had understood when Byleth suddenly called her, calling off their meeting.

It was that day when Byleth learned what her absence had done to Dimitri.

"Clinical depression," he said. "Anger issues. Lack of serotonin. A gang fight."

"Every night, I reach out to you, but you're never within reach," he said, tears streaming out of his one good eye. "Every time I see you, I ask myself 'What? What did I do to make you leave?' I'm sorry, Byleth…I really am. I'm so sorry…"

Byleth shushed him. "Don't be," she said, rubbing her back. "It…it was my fault. I wasn't thinking straight. I shouldn't have left you the way I did. I'm equally as guilty as you…I'm sorry."

They had both broken down, then, tears mixing and choked sounds mirroring as they pressed their lips together, promising to never leave each other again.

* * *

It all started with a passionate love-making session.

Like always, when they were both done, they flopped bonelessly to the bed, chests heaving and faces flushed with afterglow. Like always, Byleth snuggled up to Dimitri's firm chest, and in return, he would always wrap his strong arms around her and pull her close.

Like always, when they were both done, they would lie in bed together for hours, whispering sweet nothings into each others ear and giggling like school children.

But on September 22, Saturday night at precisely 9:23, Dimitri pulled away from Byleth and pushed a tiny black velvet box into her grasping hands.

"Here," he said, his voice still husky. "Take it."

Byleth's eyes fluttered open. "What…what is it?" she asked, yawning.

Dimitri wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer than he did ever before. "Open it."

Byleth did as she was asked, and her eyes widened as a glimmering ring smiled back at her. Mouth open in shock, she looked up at Dimitri, who was feigning an air of ignorance.

"Dimitri?" she asked. "What does…" her question faded away as Dimitri kissed her forehead.

"Byleth…would you marry me?"

A million dreams shoot through Byleth's head as nodded tearfully, clasping Dimitri's hand in his own.

"Yes...I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Battle/Struggle**

* * *

Arrows whistled and men screamed as Dimitri brutally shoved his lance through the throat of one of the Empire's red-garbed soldiers.

The man gurgled and reached out desperately towards Dimitri, but Dimitri felt nothing as he twisted the lace, decapitating the man and splashing Dimitri's face with lines of red and black.

_Two hundred and forty three…_

They had been fighting for what felt like hours now. They were supposed to march through a densely forested area to meet up with the rest of their forces, but a sudden surprise attack had caught them off-guard. Empire mages and teleported in, each bringing nearly a dozen soldiers with them.

Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, yet mere moments after being ambushed, panicked screams and shouts had risen up from the back of their army as Adrestrian soldiers attacked them from the back, stabbing and cutting without inhibition.

It was in the fray that Byleth and Dimitri had gotten separated. Byleth was forced to the front to take care of the ambushers while Dimitri dealt with the soldiers attacking them from behind. Dimitri had hated the idea of Byleth going off by herself to take on the mages, but he knew he would have no chance of closing the distance in his heavy armor, especially since the enemy was enclosed in the trees.

Dimitri knew Byleth would be more than capable of handling herself, yet he couldn't help but fear a general sense of anxiety for her safety, and after everything he's been through, he was surprised more by the fact that he could feel something than the fact that he was scared for _Byleth,_ one of the strongest warriors in all of Fódlan.

Dimitri heard a faint whistling sound that marked another volley of arrows and immediately thrust his lance into the ground to pick up the dead soldier's body to use as a temporary shield. He moved too late, however, and blood covered the dead man's breastplate as two, three, four arrows found their mark in Dimitri's back and shoulders.

Dimitri coughed, and a blood splattered the ground. Shocked, he touched his mouth and when he withdrew his hand, the glove came away bloody.

A savage growl appeared on Dimitri's face.

_So be it, then…_

If he was to fall today, then he would die killing _her_ men!

Dimitri struggled to his feet and yanked his lance out of the mud. He squinted his one good eye through the rain and fog where the arrows had came from. The battle was still too convoluted for him to make out and specific details, but he could see an Adrestrian bowman hastily nocking another arrow into their longbow.

The scowl turned into a grin.

_You're next._

Dimitri had barely taken a step forward, however, when a slender and familiar hand grabbed his shoulder.

"Dimitri, don't."

Dimitri was tempted to shake off whoever was interrupting him, but something about the voice gave him pause. There was…_fear_ in it.

"Byleth?" he croaked, turning to see her familiar visage. "What are you doing here? I thought—"

"You can't go after them," Byleth interrupted, her voice flat and neutral. "We've lost this battle. The Empire has us surrendered on all sides. We can't hold this position. We must retreat."

"We can't," Dimitri growled. "We have to stay and fight."

A soldier ran towards them, spear lowered and shouting a war cry. Without thinking, Dimitri pivoted and stabbed his lance through the soldier's stomach. The soldier dropped his spear and grabbed feebly at the staff protruding out of his body. Without hesitation, Dimitri hefted his lance over his shoulder, slamming the man's head into a discarded shield lying on the ground nearby.

An audible _crack_ sounded as the man's skull and neck broke.

Byleth flinched at the sound. She took Dimitri by the forearm and forced him to look at her in the eyes.

"We can't hold here!" she said again. "We're outnumbered and our med and _dying_, Dimitri. I won't let you waste their lives for some personal vendetta!"

"Then leave me here!" he growled. "Better a hundred survive than me."

Byleth's expression broke for a moment, then, and Dimitri could see how his words affected her. Just as quickly, however, she regained her composure and tighted her grip on his forearm.

"Unacceptable," she said. "I won't leave you. If you're staying, then I'm staying too."

Dimitri blinked, surprise. "You can't," he said sullenly. "The others will need you. You can't—"

"_I_ need you," Byleth suddenly said, and for the first time since her father's death, Dimitri saw a single tear streak its way down her face.

She bowed her head and released her grip on Dimitri's arm. He let it fall limply to his side as they stood facing each other as the sounds of battle raged around them.

"I don't…I can't…_why don't you want to live?_" Byleth shouted, fists clenched. "you keep pushing yourself harder and harder. For what? Don't you see that every time we have to pick you up off the battlefield, it hurts us? It hurts us to see you reduced to…to _this!_" she gestured at him. "It…it hurts me…"

Dimitri was thunderstruck. "Byleth, I—"

Byleth stepped closer to him and let her forehead fall against his chest. "Please, Dimitri," she whispered. "Don't do this to me. Not again."

Without thinking, Dimitri dropped his lance and roughly wrapped Byleth in his arms. "I won't," he said. He didn't know how or why, but of all the promises and oaths he swore in his life, _this_ was the one he knew he would be unable to break.

"I won't leave you again. I promise."

The battle continued to rage around them, the screams of the dead and dying a cacophony of the damned.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Future/Past_**

* * *

_Crack_

Dimitri cursed under his breath.

"Dammit, not again," he muttered, staring blankly at the shattered remains of a flowerpot in his hand.

A quick glance around the room told him that the rest of the class were all further ahead than him. Some had already finished painting their designs on the little clay flowerpots, each one unique and reflective of the artists.

Sylvain's appeared to be a somewhat crude portrait of what looked like Mercedes, though judging by the heated way Annette was yanking his ear and chewing him out, it seemed more than likely that it was meant to be a portrait of Annette instead. Mercedes simply smiled gently at the two bickering as she continued to decorate her flowerpot with all sorts of flowers, each one brighter and more colorful than the last. Why anyone would want to paint even more flowers on something already meant to contain and house a flower, Dimitri would never know.

Felix, as expected, took it upon himself to paint as many flowerpots as possible, not caring about the quality of the pictures or even the structure with how he made them. Ashe was sitting next to, understandably exasperated as he tried to convince Felix to slow down and put down actual effort into his flowerpots, but either the swordsman was deaf or he was surprisingly good at keeping his irritation hidden.

Surprisingly, the one flowerpot that everybody (except Felix) could agree upon as being the best belonged to none other than Dedue. Dedue was well known for being one of the best gardeners out of all the students at Garreg Mach, and it seemed his hobby applied to decorating as well. Dimitri couldn't actually see the flowerpot itself, but judging by the way the other students' eyes flitted between him and the flowerpot, he guessed Dedue had painted a portrait of Dimitri himself.

Of course, when asked about, Dedue obstinately refused to answer, simply hiding the flowerpot behind one of his muscular arms as he shot death glares towards anyone who tried to make comparisons between the rather poorly painted portrait of Dimitri and the actual boy himself.

"Alright, everybody. Settle down."

Instantly, the class fell silent. Feet pattered and chairs screeched over the stone floor as everyone hastily returned to their seats. Byleth walked in, the signature _clack_ of her stilettoes sounding even more intimidating.

Yet despite the intimidating sound of her gait, Dimitri knew there was nothing intimidating about the woman herself. Though a fearsome and capable swordswoman, Dimitri knew he would never be on the receiving end of her blade. Byleth was far too kind for that.

But her kindness wasn't the only thing that attracted Dimitri. Everything, from her feminine curves to her deadpan sense of humor attracted Dimitri, and when he stared at her in class, as he did now, he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing inside of him.

Dammit, he wished his flowerpot was still intact!

Though her expression remained neutral, Dimitri could tell that she felt…something as she looked at their progress. He couldn't tell if it was pride, or anger, or sadness, or just exasperation when her eyes flitted over to Sylvain's flowerpot, but nonetheless, her expression did not break.

Dimitri shook himself as he realized Byleth was talking.

"…could hear you all from outside," she said curtly. "Even with the doors closed. I assume this is because everyone has completed the assignment?"

Dimitri looked down at the shattered remains of his flowerpot in guilt as the rest of the class answered an affirmative.

"Tell me," Byleth said, picking up a pointer and gesturing to the board. "How does painting on a flowerpot relate to the art of war?"

Ingrid's hand was instantly in the air.

"It teaches us to be creative and work around obstacles," she rattled off. "Painting is said to be—"

"Good," Byleth said, interrupting her. "Anyone else?"

Her green eyes bore themselves into Dimitri.

"What about you, Dimitri? Care to share your opinion?"

"I-I, uh, I-I assume it has nothing to do with it at all?" he stammered. "O-Or maybe it has to do with what Ingrid said, teaching us to be creative and think outside the box?"

Byleth rested her cheek in a hand thoughtfully. "Well, there is a purpose for me giving you this exercise, and while Ingrid's answer is thought-provoking enough, it wasn't what I'm looking for."

Dimitri pursed his lips and looked down at his desk.

"Anyone else?"

* * *

When bell chimed in its signature five-note rhythm, chairs scraped back and papers fluttered as the class rose from their seats.

"That'll conclude our lesson for today," Byleth said, snapping her own book closed. "Don't forget to leave your flowerpot—" she looked at Felix's desk,"—or _flowerpots_ on your desk. Remember, everybody. It's not always about the quantity, but rather quality."

Dimitri desperately wished he had a completed flowerpot of his own, then. Maybe then he would feel less guilty at the incredulous expression on Felix's face as he stormed out of the classroom.

"Dimitri?" Byleth suddenly called.

"U-uh, yes, ma'am?" he stammered, snapping to attention.

Without a word, the green-haired woman beckoned him over with a single finger. Swallowing his nervousness, Dimitri dutifully walked over and stood in front of her desk, hands clasped behind his back.

"Where is your flowerpot?" she asked. "I count only seven pots, ignoring the fifteen other ones belonging to Felix."

Dimitri grimaced as he deposited what remained of his flowerpot onto her desk. "Er, I sort of…crushed it. Accidentally."

If Byleth was disappointed, she did not show it. "I see," she said simply before interlocking her fingers together and resting her chin on them as she looked up at Dimitri.

"You've been slipping," Byleth said flatly. Her green eyes met Dimitri's blue before she looked down again to scribble something down. "Is there anything you wish to talk to me about?"

Dimitri froze, unsure of how to continue. Did she know? No, it was impossible, but at the same time, maybe rumors finally reached her ears. Or maybe she heard about his inability to taste things, or maybe—

"You know, Dimitri, as much as I enjoy sharing my silence with you, I have a meeting to attend. Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

_Last chance, Dimitri. One chance to tell her everything._

"…no," he said. "There's nothing wrong. Just a bit of stress."

Byleth nodded and hummed thoughtfully as she closed her book. "I see," she said simply. "Keep in mind that, as house leader, you cannot afford to appear weak or lose your nerve. Your housemates depend on you, and you will undoubtedly amount to something far greater in the future so long as you continue your studies."

"Yes, professor," Dimitri said automatically, nodding furiously. "I understand."

Byleth hummed thoughtfully again as she rested her cheek in a palm. "Good to hear," she said. "You are dismissed."

Dimitri bowed respectfully and turned to gather his materials. As he was about to leave the classroom, Byleth suddenly called out, "Oh, and Dimitri?"

He turned and looked back at her.

A ghost of a smile seemed to dance on her lips.

"Full marks for today's work. Good job, Dimitri."

"P-professor."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Apologies for the delay. Between visiting old friends, schoolwork, and doing research on each of the characters, this chapter (and quite a few others) got delayed noticeably. Fear not, however! I'll see this through to the end.

* * *

**Wedding**

* * *

Five months. Almost a hundred and fifty days. A hundred and fifty days of preparations, work, treaties, meetings, and Sothis knows what else, and despite circling the date on her faded calendar with the brightest of pinks and the reddest of reds, when the week of the wedding rolled around, Byleth was _still_ caught off-guard.

In fact, if it hadn't been for the sudden influx of old friends and allies arriving at the castle and the murmured words of congratulations and encouragement, Byleth never would've guessed that in less than five days, she would be marrying the man of her life.

But eight hours before the actual day of the wedding, this was how her day started:

Before Byleth even had a chance to rouse herself, two maids somehow managed to sneak themselves into her room without bumping or otherwise disturbing the plethora of weapons, books, teacups, and flower vases. Luckily for the maids, that night was the first night in years where Byleth did not sleep with a dagger under her pillow. Otherwise, blood would have painted the walls with a slash of red.

Even then, the two maids managed to unceremoniously yank Byleth's cover off, almost rolling her onto the floor. The younger of the maids, a pink-haired, chirpy, and incredibly energetic woman, cheerfully informed her that today was her "big, big, big, big, big, big day!"

Being an early riser, Byleth doesn't complain much as the two maids escort her down the hall and into the royal bathhouse, despite being bleary-eyed and yawning. What she _did_ complain about was the temperature of the water.

"_Eek!"_ she involuntarily yelped, dipping a foot into the water and immediately drawing it out again. She gave the maids a half-questioning, half-scathing look.

"Sorry, milady," the pink=haired maid apologized. "It's to make sure you don't fall back asleep."

Grimly accepting the circumstances, Byleth slowly eases herself into the icy-cold water, not bothering to hide her grimace. She sits there, shivering, as the two maids bustle back and forth, washing, scrubbing, and lathering her hair with a variety of scented shampoos that caused Byleth to scrunch up her nose.

Sure, she occasionally wore jewelry or put on some makeup for special occasions, but scented shampoos? Really? Twenty-plus years of studying fighting, magic, and Sothis knows what else, but the _one thing_ Byleth could never wrap her mind around was how some women cared so much about their appearance.

Maybe she was being biased, base don her childhood life being cared for by mercenaries, but Byleth's stance on clothing was as thus: If it doesn't fit or protect you in battle, toss it.

Pretty simple.

Even in her sleepy state, however, Byleth was still able to pay some form of attention as the maids chattered here and there. The initial grimace on her face soon faded away in the face of the maid's excited talking, and she even stopped shivering as she adjusted to the cold of the water.

When the maids were finally finished washing her hair, they stepped back and held out a towel for Byleth's modesty as she climbed out of the bath, now much more alert. As Byleth wrapped herself in the towel, one of the maids began pushing her back towards her chambers.

Through her window, she could just barely get a glimpse of the castle outside where servants are running back and forth, preparing for the ceremony. The ceremony wasn't supposed to start until noon, and the guests won't take seats until just an hour or two beforehand, but it still felt like an eternity's worth of work still needed to be done before the wedding.

"Alright, milady," one of the maids said as she turned towards Byleth, various makeup tools in each hand. "This is every women's nightmare."

Several _hours_ later, when the makeup was applied, the hair done, and dress hanging off her shoulders, Byleth stood before a body-size mirror, looking at her reflection.

Even with Byleth's spartan taste in clothing, the dress was…well, _beautiful_. As per ancient wedding conditions, the majority of the dress was white, with tiny blue-green jewels sprinkled here and there along the edge of the dress to bring out the color of her eyes. Her shoulders and neck were bare save for a necklace hanging around her neck. The necklace was one of Dimitri's first gifts to her and Byleth seldom went without it. The upper part of her arms was covered by a layer of translucent fabric that fluttered and swayed, seemingly of its own accord.

A light blue sash was tied around her waist, as was traditional for brides at their first wedding. As for the massive, billowing skirt itself, the hems were also lined by a variety of jewels, all green and blue. A secondary layer, attached only to her sides, laid on top of the white base layer. This layer was trimmed with green and blue fabric, beautifully concocted together to create a shade of green similar to Byleth's eyes.

As for her torso, while most of her chest was covered by an unadorned and simple strapless tank, part of the cloth around the lower abdomen was slightly translucent, revealing her belly button if one peered closely enough. Her back, however, was mostly bare, save for what the maids called a "rather seductive looking corset-lace."

Byleth wasn't sure how she felt about being called "seductive," but the maids' following compliments sent nothing but a ray of happiness shutting through her.

"Oh my gods!" one of the maids squealed, swooning dramatically. "You look _beautiful! _King Dimitri's going to _faint_ when he sees you!"

Smiling shyly, Byleth nodded in thanks. The maids spent another few minutes swooning and congratulating each other for their work before they turned their attention back on Byleth.

"Now, back to business," the oldest maid said, stooping down to poke and investigate every square inch of Byleth's dress. "Now tell us, do you feel any discomfort? Is anything poking you or squeezing you too hard?"

Byleth tugged at the neckline of her tank gown. "It's…it's sort of tight in the chest," she managed to gasp out. "Makes…it hard to breathe."

"Ooh, that might be because of the brassiere," one of the maids muttered under her breath. "Could be too tight."

"Or it could be because of the dress measurements," another maid noted. "She's pretty slender…in certain parts. Most women…if they're big up top, they're big down bottom."

"Can…you do anything…about it?" Byleth asked, ignoring how the maids were talking about her body. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe now.

"We could loosen the corset a bit," one of the maids informed her. "Doing might let you breathe better…except it won't make them _pop_ out as much."

Byleth had only a slight inkling as to what _them_ was referring to, but by now, it was almost impossible for her to breathe. "Do it."

Nodding, the maids set themselves at work. It wasn't long before one of them let out a long _oh_ of realization. At the exact same time, Byleth sighed in relief as she felt the fabric around her chest loosen, and she gratefully took a deep breath.

"We found out the reason behind your dress' tightness," one of the maids said. "_Someone_—" she glared daggers at the pink-haired maid—"tightened it too much, so congratulations! The dress fits!"

"That's good," Byleth said, pressing a palm into her chest as she took another grateful gasp of air. "What time is it?"

As one, all three maids blanched as they glanced at the clock mounted on the wall. Byleth noted their morbid expressions and turned to look at the time itself…and felt her own blood drain from her makeup-caked face. The clock read 11:57.

The ceremony was supposed to start at 11:50.

Uh oh.

* * *

_Where is she?_

Dimitrii bounced nervously on the balls of his feet as he glanced anxiously down towards the red carpet-lined aisle. Though he appeared relaxed from a distance, from the priest's distance, one could actually see the drops of sweat beading his forehead as he nervously clasped and unclasped his hands, only to clasp them together again.

_It's not like her to be this late…_

Did she oversleep? Was that why she was tardy? Or was it because she just forgot? Or—

_No…_

Was it…because she was secretly seeing another man?!

But it couldn't be! She said she wanted to be with him! The very idea of her cheating and betraying him in the most sickening, disgusting, kick-between-the-legs way was unfathomable! Unthinkable! Impossible!

Unless…

"My king," the priest said, jarring Dimitri from his inner demons. "Look!"

Dimitri did as he asked, and no words could describe his relief as he saw a shade of white running down the aisle towards him. Byleth slowed momentarily at the base of the dais where the altar was placed and quickly but carefully made her way up the steps.

"Hi," she breathes, placing one slender hand in his.

He relaxes visibly as he squeezed her. "Hi," he whispered back.

The lower half of her face was obscured by a veil, but instead of hampering or reducing her beauty, the cloth only emphasized it. He could see nothing under the veil, but the crinkling around her eyes as they softened told her that she was smiling.

"What happened?" he mouthed, hoping she would understand.

She gave him a slight, almost impercievable shake of her head. "Clothing problems," she whispered. "Chest was too tight. Couldn't breathe."

Dimitri's jaw clenched involuntarily. "Who did this to you? I'll—"

"It was just an accident," Byleth said, cutting him off. "It's no big deal. A string was tightened too much, that's all."

Dimitri nodded, accepting her answer. In response, Byleth squeezed his hand. He squeezed her back, not realizing the meaning behind it until he saw Byleth gesture frantically with her head towards something.

"Do you, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, take on Byleth Eisner, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I-I do."

"Do you promise to take her as she is, to accept and love every part of her?"

"I promise to take her as she is, to accept and love every part of her."

"Do you promise to be good and true to her, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health?"

"I promise to be good and true to her, in good times and bad, in sickness and in health."

"Do you promise to love and honor her all days of your life?"

"I promise to love and honor her all days of my life."

Satisfied, the priest smiled and nodded before he turned towards Byleth to ask her the same vows. "Do you, Byleth Eisner, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, take on Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, as your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to take him as he is, to accept and love every part of him?"

Byleth promised that she would.

By the time they finished their vows, Dimitri was so nervous, he was shaking. In fact, it took the priest laying a hand on his shoulder for him to shakily reach up to untie the veil from her face.

His hands were shaking so much, he himself was shocked to find himself slipping the ring, a simple band of gold with the words _Praeter mortem nobis _etched on the outside, onto her finger. As soon as it was on, however, a thunderous round of applause and cheers rose up from the audience and he barely has the patience to wait for the proclamation before he swoops in takes her by the lips.

Byleth, of course, reciprocated, and they pull away, red-faced and gasping for breath, the most they could do was smile lovingly at each other before Dimitri pulls her under his arm and proclaim to the crowd, "Let the celebrations…begin!"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The prompt was a bit vague, and since I know next to nothing about the art of dancing itself, I decided to focus on the events leading up to it instead of the actual dancing itself. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Ball/Dance**

* * *

When the night of the dance came and no suitors approached her, save for a clumsily scrawled approximation of a proposal left in her mailbox, Byleth mentally resigned herself to a long night of playing staring contests with the wall. If she could skip, she would've, but with her job as a professor at Garreg Mach, she had to make certain…sacrifices.

Currently, she was stationed on a balcony overlooking the main dance floor. Part of it was because of her job to watch over the event and make sure nothing went awry, but the second reason was she felt…

She didn't know what she felt, actually. It was this tight feeling in her chest whenever she saw the boys staring into the girls' eyes and the girls staring back at them(she would have to keep an eye on those who stared at each other too long). It was this frowning slash across her lips as she glimpsed some of the boys bending down to peck their partner's cheek while the girl's eyelids slid shut as they rose onto their toes (she would have to sternly remind them of relationships of campus). It was this sinking feeling whenever she saw him smiling—

No. She couldn't think about that. Not now.

Couples were twirling here and there, hands resting on each other's shoulders and waists, as they glided across the room effortlessly. As she watched, one of her hands unconsciously pressed itself into her chest as she tried to imagine the feeling of his hands on her hips, her hands on his strong shoulders, the look of his eyes as he bent down to kiss—

Byleth scowled and thumped a clenched fist against the stone column she was resting on. Dammit! Why now? Why was she thinking about _that_ while—

"Teach?"

Byleth instantly ceased her thumping and turned towards the sound of her voice. To her horror, it was not him, but Claude instead.

"Teach?" Claude called again, this time with a hint of concern in his voice. "Are you feeling alright?"

Byleth took a moment to take a deep breath before she felt confident enough to answer. "Of course," she answered. "I was just watching over the dance to ensure nothing happens."

A dry smile carved its way onto Claude's face as he tilted his head. "If I may be so forward with you, professor—"

"Please, call me Byleth for tonight," she said before she could stop herself. _Dammit! _She was letting all her thoughts of him get to her head!

"As you wish," Claude said smoothly. If he noticed her compromised emotions, he did not show it. "As I was saying, Tea—_Byleth—_if I could be forward with you, I think smashing your fist into a stone pillar is rather…unique way of watching over us."

Byleth had nothing to say to that, so instead, she simply nodded and returned her gaze down to the dancing floor. "If I could be forward with you as well, Claude, might I question as to why are you up here instead of downstairs? This space is reserved for teachers who—"

"I know what the rules are," he said good-naturedly as he leaned against the handrail, letting an arm hang over empty air. "I know this place is reserved for only professors, so why is it that _you're_ the only one up here?"

"I—it's none of your concern," Byleth stammered as she looked away, down towards the dance floor. "I simply wish to be alone tonight."

Claude's eyes narrowed as he took in her form. Physically, she looked the same as ever. Dark green hair caressing over her shoulder, hand propping up an elbow as she thought…but something was _different_ tonight. She had never _stuttered _before, which meant something was throwing her off. Not only that, but the way she stood said more than she would ever care to admit. She was closed off, hunched, as if trying to keep something out…or keep something in.

She said she wanted to be alone, yet here she was, watching people dance. _He_ had said the same thing when Claude found him standing outside under the moonlight. Could it be that—

A spark of electricity connected in Claude's brain as an idea popped into his head. He lunged forward and took Byleth by the elbow.

"What are you doing?" Byleth asked as he dragged her away. "Where are you taking me?"

"Good thing your buddy Claude always thinks on his feet!" Claude replied, looking back to give her a sly wink. "Don't worry, Teach. I got an idea that can really make your night!"

"I'm fine, Claude," Byleth protested as he took her downstairs, towards the dance floor. For a moment, she thought Claude was going to dance with her himself, but then he suddenly turned and headed towards the oaken doors leading outside. "I don't—"

Whatever objections she was going to offer was instantly silenced when Claude pushed her towards…_him_.

Dimitri looked up as he heard their footsteps. "Claude, for the last time," he started, "I'm _fine!_ I don't—"

His voice slackened as he realized that Byleth was standing before him. Likewise, Byleth's arms fell limply to her sides as she drank in the form of Dimitri with her eyes. Behind her, Claude disappeared behind another stone column, snickering

Dimitri was…well, _Dimitri. _In his school uniform, Byleth naturally found her gaze drifting towards him, but when he was in his suit…Byleth felt a low, roiling feeling in her stomach as Dimitri shuffled nervously.

"Ah, Professor!" he greeted, nervously wetting his lips. "I take it Claude was the one who dragged you here?"

"Who else?" Byleth replied blithely, shooting a pointed glare towards the pillar Claude was undoubtedly hiding behind.

"Well then, I guess you could say it's my fault you ended up here," Dimitri said, ruefully rubbing the back of his neck. "Claude found me outside and naturally assumed I needed company, despite me saying otherwise. Evidently, he found you and dragged you here, didn't he?"

Byleth nodded. "Why were you out here in the first place anyway?"

Dimitri opened his mouth but suddenly closed it, as if he was going to say something but suddenly changed his mind. "It's…a long story," he said.

Byleth turned towards the open doorway. Music and laughter still came from it, so she shrugged and sat on the stone steps. When Dimitri looked down at her in confusion, Byleth scooched over and patted the spot next to her. "We're going to be out here for a while anyway."

Dimitri looked like he was about to object but eventually sat down next to him and propped his chin up with his hands. "Long story short, I…was _interested_ in this girl to the dance for a while, Professor."

Byleth resisted the urge to groan. Of _course,_ it was about a girl.

"Let me guess," she interrupted. "She said no?"

Dimitri laughed, a short, humorless bark of laughter. "Worse. She didn't even respond."

_Ouch._ Maybe she should watch her words from now on.

"I'm sorry," she said, touching his shoulder.

Almost as if surprised by her touch, Dimitri flinched. As soon he realized it was Byleth, however, he gave her a small but weary smile as he looked down at his feet again.

"Don't be," he said. "It's not your fault. I managed to ask another girl to the dance."

"I noticed," Byleth said. Then, teasingly, she added, "She looked cute."

To her concern, Dimitri merely scowled and threw his hands up in disgust. "She _looked_, Professor, but turns out, she doesn't _act_ cute. I took a break from dancing to grab a drink for both of us, and when I came back, she was kissing some other boy I didn't even know."

_Double ouch._

"I…see," Byleth said slowly, shaking her head. She rested a hand on Dimitri's shoulder again, and this time, he didn't jerk back. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Dimitri shrugged. "It's alright. I didn't feel the same level of attraction as I did the first girl."

"This girl…" Byleth innocently, "who was it?"

Suddenly Dimitri flushed red and he scooted away from her, causing Byleth to look at him in concern. As she did, she noticed how he was trying to look at her without actually looking at her.

_Could it be?_

"It's…rather embarrassing," Dimitri stammered out. "I'm really not comfortable telling you. If you don't mind, of course."

"Of course," Byleth repeated hollowly. Maybe she was wrong then.

"But she is an amazing person though, Dimitri sighed, almost as an afterthought.

Byleth perked her head up. "What is she like?"

"She's…smart," Dimitri said. Then, chuckling dryly, he turned towards her and gave her a little hopeless shrug. "Forgive me, Professor, if I say something that offends you. Women can be…"

"Temperamental," Byleth finished. "Or so I've heard."

Dimitri nodded. "Well, she's anything but temperamental. In fact, she's pretty calm most of the time."

"Is she now?" Byleth asked. "Is she a bookworm?"

"I guess?" Dimitri said, shrugging. "I mean, I know she has to read a lot of words, since that's part of her job, but—"

Byleth looked over at Dimitri as he cut himself off. At the same time, Byleth's eyes widened as she registered what he just said.

_Calm. Smart. Bookworm. Has a job._

What was Byleth? Calm. Smart. A bookworm. Has a job.

"Is…are you talking about me?" she asked hesitantly.

Dimitri buried his face in his hands before suddenly jumping to his feet and bowing deeply. "Please forgive me, professor," he said earnestly. "I know these kinds of feelings are forbidden, but I desperately wished to invite you to a dance tonight. I…I tried to write you a letter, asking you, but when you didn't mention it, I thought either you never received it or you just threw it out. I—"

"Wait, _you_ wrote me that letter?" Byleth asked. She fumbled in her coat pocket for something. "_This _letter?" she said, procuring the crumpled note.

Upon seeing the crumpled sheet of paper, Dimitri's shoulders slumped as he sat down again and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, gods," he said, voice muffled. "I'm so sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to make things awkward between us, but—"

"I understand," Byleth said, resting a hand on Dimitri's shoulder. "But don't worry. I don't feel awkward."

Dimitrri lifted his head up and gazed at Byleth with something close to both confusion and intrigue. "What? You don't?"

Byleth pursed her lips together as she wrung her hands, tyring to find the right words. "I…I was hoping for someone to ask me out to tonight's dance, admittedly. Someone…who's blonde and…is the leader of their house." She looked shyly at Dimitri. "Do…do wish to have tonight's dance with me?"

This time, Dimitri looked at her with something closer to wonder and surprise. "M-me?" he stammered, pointing to himself. "B-but after all I said? My feelings? You still wish to…_dance_ with me?"

Byleth felt her cheeks warm up, a most curious but oddly pleasant sensation. "I do."

Dimitri spent a good moment looking at her as if trying to discern any hidden tricks or riddles hidden in that simple two-word statement before cleared his throat and bowed down to offer a hand with all the boyish charm an eighteen-year-old could possess. "I-in that case…would you like to have a dance with me, Lady…er…Professor…um…"

He looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes. "How do I address you anyways?"

"Eisner," Byleth said, smiling as she gently took his offered hand. "My last name is Eisner."

"Eisner," Dimitri repeated, letting the word roll off his tongue. "Lady Eisner, would you like to have tonight's dance with me?"

Byleth's smile grew even wider. "I would."

As the couple headed back inside, a certain black-haired student outside jumped and whooped, punching the air in celebration and excitement.

The next time they had class, Dimitri's and Byleth's eyes stayed locked just a second longer. The class after that, they started smiling at each other.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This is not a happy chapter, just letting you know.

* * *

**Memory**

* * *

_Memory…_

_Memory…_

_What was that memory?_

Dimitri was dying, and he knew it. Even in his addled state—his feeble, bed-ridden state—he knew he was dying. Once upon a time, so many years ago, he had thought he knew what it meant to die, but now that he was lying on his deathbed, he felt…nothing.

No pain, no echoes of the past to haunt him, no memories to remind him of his failures and regrets.

Nothing.

A slight tremor in his chest soon turned into a full-blown coughing fit as he lurched forward, spittle flying from his cracked lips as he wheezed for breath. Flayn, his caretaker, rushed hurriedly to his side and pressed a glass of water into his wrinkled hands.

"Here, Dimitri," she said concernedly, "drink this. It'll make you feel better."

As soon as the liquid passed his parched throat, the cough died away and Dimitri turned towards Flayn to give her a grateful stare. Flayn simply smiled back at him as she folded his hands over his shriveled chest. Her face was all smiles, however, but her eyes showed nothing but sadness.

Once upon a time, the girl had looked so cheerful, acted so naïve. Nobody could hate her, yet here she was, almost ninety years later. Same style of hair. Same youthful, unwrinkled face. Same bright-eyed, thoughtful gaze.

It reminded him...of her.

"By…leth…"

The caretaker looked back towards him. "Did you call me?" she asked.

"By…leth…" he croaked again. "Where…is…she?"

The caretaker smiled sadly as she pressed something into his palm. Like Dimitri, she knew he was dying. Unlike Dimitri, however, she remembered everything. The war. The wedding. The Kingdom. The Decimation. Everything.

"She's…she's not here right now," she lied, gently squeezing his hand. "She'll be here soon."

Dimitri's eyes rolled lazily in their sockets as he turned his head to look out the window.

"Moon…light…"

Yes…yes…yes, he remembered moonlight. He remembered how bright it was when Byleth pushed him to the ground, legs straddling him as she kissed him passionately.

"By…leth…"

It had been a beautiful night. The children were asleep, the servants still busy with the remains of the lavish party they had thrown to announce their fourth child…but Byleth had still been hungry. Dimitri thought she would've been full with how much effort it took to make the announcement, yet she stilled pulled him out to the garden overlooking a small, natural pond.

She had pounced on him then, while he was in the middle of telling her a story. He remembered how his eyes widened in surprise then closed in pleasure as Byleth laid her core over his, legs on either side of him.

He remembered grasping her thighs, drinking in the sight of her naked body as she stifled moans and bit her lips. He never could quite understand how she still loved it so much when he eased himself into her. As time passed, he found himself knowing that part of her as well as any other part. He knew where the flaws laid, where the perfections, dwelled. It always felt the same to him, and it was that satisfaction of touching just the right spot that always sent him careening over the edge.

That night had been like any other. He clutched her smaller, frailer body to his as her eyes rolled back, hips bucking and fingernails scratching his back as she came with him. He remembered the steps it took to get her there. First, he had to carefully strip away the beautiful clothing that adorned her.

She looked beautiful in everything she wore, of course, but that night, she had been wearing a variation of the armor she always wore during the war, with the only difference being the lack of the necklace that always hid that sight from him during class and the skirt billowing down her legs.

After he stripped her of her clothes, then he would reach behind her and unlatch all the hooks and buckles. They looked as beautiful as he remembered, full and perky and rounded and _perfect. _He remembered how, like every other time he had done it, Byleth had sighed in relief as gravity took its toll and she leaned forward until her skin touched his.

He remembered drinking in her form in the moonlight as she ran her hands in small, meaningless but meaningful circles over his bare chest. He remembered how her back arched when he lifted his head from between her legs. He remembered how she gazed at him longingly, _longingly_, as her head moved back and forth.

He remembered being able to recover faster than, being able to see her face mid-orgasm as she tossed her head back, an ecstatic smile gracing her lips as he kissed her on the cheek, on the neck, below her jaw, on her ear.

He remembered how they managed to sneak back to their room for a second round, bypassing Dedue and all of their other servants as they made for a second round. After that round, he remembered how she had cuddled in next to him, her bare breasts softly but firmly pushing against his bare chest.

He remembered lifting her hair to kiss her ear. She had shuddered, turned over to kiss him back, but when he went in again, she put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion. "Not now," she had said. "Not now. Later"

"Not…now," Dimitri rasped. "Not…now…"

He remembered, nine months later, he stood in front of two open graves, ashen-faced while three little children clutched at his legs and arms, crying loudly as two coffins were lowered into the holes, the smaller one into the smaller hole, and the larger one into the other.

The funeral took place on a sunny day in summer, during the fifteenth of the Great Tree Moon Imperial Year 1257.

They were to be laid to rest on a small hill overlooking Garreg Mach Monastery, the ruins of the once-great temple now covered in ivy and weeds. Some argued that she should be buried in a field outside the main castle reserved for royalty, yet Dimitri knew it would've been what she wanted.

The citizens had lined up as far as the eye could see, and for the first time since the end of the war, almost everyone from every country had attended the funeral. The nobles, retainers, and members of the royal family were at the front of the gathering, watching as the gravediggers piled earth and stone above the wooden coffins.

He remembered how, spite being swathed in the blackest of clothes and capes that day, he had felt so very, very cold.

There had been too much blood, the healer said, far too much, and she was screaming, Sothis forbid, screaming. When she gave birth to little Eddie, she had been completely silent, save for the occasional wince and grunt. The pain must've been terrible…oh so terrible…for her to actually make noise. When Dimitri walked in, he saw how her forehead was beaded with sweat and burning hot with fever, eyes unfocused and pupils dilated.

He remembered shouting, bellowing, screaming at the healers to do something, but they could only shake their hands as they explained to him that spells could only treat wounds, not illness or childbirth. With the mother's immune system weakened, they would undoubtedly die in they took in even the smallest amount of magic, the body being unable to handle the stress overload.

And so there was nothing they could do for her and their child.

"Hang in there," he had said, hovering at her side. He took her hand in his and he remembered almost cursing in pain at how she crushed his fingers. "He's almost here, and then the healers will patch you up, and then you'll both be fine, and then we can hold him together, and then…"

_And then, and then, and then._

As Dimitri rambled, each repetition became less and less of a statement of fact or hope, and more and more of a prayer to the world at large.

He was no healer, but he could tell by how quickly the bandages became soaked red with blood. Byleth had only been in labor for a few hours, but the baby was being born in the breech position, feet-first compared to the head-first most children were born in. The midwife was trying her best to ease their child out, but her grim face was turning desperate, and right as everyone accepted the odds of both mother and child surviving the birth, she let out one last, final scream, and then collapsed, skin an unhealthy pallor of gray.

One of the women roughly shoved Dimitri aside as she bent to help the midwife, but when Dimitri saw the grief-stricken expression on the midwife's face, he fell to his knees and cried.

The baby was stillborn.

"Di…mi…ti…"

He looked up. Their child might be dead, but there was a chance, a _chance_ that she could still survive. He quickly took her hand and squeezed it.

"I'm here," he had said. "I'm here, don't worry."

_I'm here. Don't worry._

She simply took his hand in hers and weakly reached up to touch his face. He met her halfway there. Her breathing was heavy and Dimitri could see how glazed her eyes were.

_A chance…_

_A chance…_

"I'm…so sorry," she whispered, weakly running a hand over his cheek. "I'm…so sorry…"

"Don't be," Dimitri whispered, back, squeezing her harder. "You'll make it through this. You'll make it. You'll make it."

_You'll make it._

But she wouldn't.

"Di…mi…tri…" she whispered

"Please, don't…you'll make it. You'll make it…"

"Please…don't…mourn me…our…children…Dimitri…our children…Dimitri…Di…mi…tri…"

Ten minutes later, Queen Byleth Eisner, Archbishop of the Church of Seiros and Queen of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus was declared dead from internal hemorrhaging.

He outlived them all.

Jeralt died of a heart attack at the age of fifty-three. Claudia in an assassination coup at forty-seven. Eddie at fifty. And little Solanah at nine months. He outlived them all.

But now his time had come.

Her eyesight was failing. His lungs labored. He tried to reach up to his neck to clutch the necklace Byleth had given him so long ago, a gift originally intended for her ended up as his closest keepsake of her, his good-luck charm and the embodiment of all the good they've done together for this land.

"By…leth…" he whispered.

And with that, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd closed his eyes for the last time.

* * *

When Flayn returned and Dimitri did not respond when she called his name, she gently touched his shoulder.

It was cold.

When she checked his pulse, she found nothing.

And then, as soon as she set down the tray of food she had been carrying, she sat back against the wall and cried.

The last of the Lords of the Three Houses was dead.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Apologies for lower quality and delay. Procrastination is hard to deal with.

* * *

When Dimitri pushed open the door leading to his and Byleth's bedroom, the last thing he expected after a long day of running the kingdom was Byleth sitting on the edge of the bed, a smile on her face, a card in her left hand and a balloon in her right. As soon as he registered this strange sight, he looked at Byleth in confusion.

"Byleth?" he said cautiously. "What's going on?"

"Good evening, Dimitri," Byleth greeted casually. "How was your day?"

"It was…fine," Dimitri said slowly as he stripped himself of his furred cape and armor. Tossing them over the back of the chair, he asked, "What's wrong? You're acting sort of…odd. What's with the balloon?"

In response, Byleth simply smiled even wider and stood up to hand him the card. Taking the card, he ran his eye over the words on the front cover.

"'What is a dad?'" he read. He looked up at Byleth, who looked like she was about to burst into a giggling fit. "What does that mean?"

"Open it," Byleth said.

Dimitri did as he was asked and was simply greeted by another, smaller line of text. "'You. You is a dad.'"

Dimitri looked up at Byleth. "I don't get it. Is it supposed to—oh. _Oh!_"

Byleth's smile somehow grew even wider when Dimitri looked at her, brandishing the card in a hand as he rested a hand on her shoulder. Once upon a time, she would've seen hate and self-loathing in that brilliant blue orb of his, but now, the only thing she saw in his eye was confusion, caution, happiness, excitement, and above all else, _hope._

"Is this a joke?" he asked, waving the card in her face. "_Please_ don't tell me it's a joke."

Byleth simply shook her head.

Dimitri instantly released her shoulder and staggered back before suddenly whooping and pumping his fist. "Yes!" he shouted, and how Byleth's heart soared at the amount of pure _joy_ she heard in that simple word.

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Dimitri shouted. He was bouncing up and down in excitement now, much like a child. He pushed his hair away from his eye and grinned towards her.

"_Please_ don't tell me this is a joke," he said.

"It's not," Byleth said, going on her tiptoes barely match his height. "Dimitri…I'm pregnant."

Byleth barely had the time to smile before Dimitri tackled her to the bed in a flying tackle hug, laughing the whole time. Before she knew it, she was laughing as well, partly because of Dimitri's reaction, but also partly because of the pure _joy_ she felt in her heart.

She was going to become a mother.

_They_ were going to become a family.

Just as quickly he hugged her, however, Dimitri released her and looked at her with an apprehensive look. "We-we'll need to start thinking of some names. A-and talking to the nurses! Ah, er, I haven't got much experience, but—"

Byleth couldn't help but giggle, charmed. "Don't worry about the medical stuff," she said. "That's only for me. As for names…I was thinking of…Jeralt."

"Jeralt?" Dimitri asked. "Your father's name?"

Byleth nodded.

"B-but how do you it's going to be a boy?" Dimitri said.

"I just know," Byleth said.

"But what if it's a girl?"

Byleth took a moment to think about that possibility. "We'll cross the bridge when it comes to it," she said finally.

* * *

Byleth rolled over, hands groping blindly for Dimitri's, and when she felt air instead of a warm body, she instantly snapped her eyes open. She patted the empty space where her husband should have been before groggily sitting up.

It must have been early in the morning, for the curtains were still drawn and the candle by the side of their bed burned out. A thin sliver of light shone through a gap in the curtains, enough to crack the shadows, but beyond that, Byleth couldn't make out anything save for the most general of shapes.

"Dimitri?" she called out quietly. "Dimitri?"

A light suddenly shone through the bottom of the door and muffled voices came from the other side. Byleth froze before cautiously reaching towards the nightstand for the concealed dagger she always set there. After a failed assassination attempt some months ago, shortly after Jeralt's birth, Byleth and Dimitri always carried a weapon of sorts nearby.

She hated taking up arms, especially so soon after the war, but if anything were to harm Dimitri or her children, she would endure the war a hundred times over for them.

A slight snicker gave her pause, however. The snicker was soon followed by a series of muffled shushing, and a bemused smile spread itself out over Byleth's face as she realized what Dimitri was up to.

_Not this time…_

Rolling out of bed and pulling her bedsheets with her, Byleth began the seemingly simple task of setting up a makeshift trap out of her and Dimitri's sheets without making a single sound. One time, she teetered, reaching just a _little_ too far, she almost banged her hand against the door. Luckily, she managed to catch herself, but she also managed to catch some words as well.

"…she doesn't like it?" asked a high-pitched voice

"She'll like it," said another voice, this one much deeper.

Byleth's heart involuntarily skipped a beat as she registered the owner of the deep voice.

_Dimitri._

After a few more precious minutes, Byleth found herself crouching on top of a dresser next to the door. As she crouched there, waiting, she heard more muffled footsteps and whispers before someone suddenly said, "Three!"

_Two,_ Byleth thought dryly.

"One! Surprise!"

The door was suddenly thrown upon with a laugh _bang_. Dimitri paraded in, followed by little Jeralt and Claudia clutching on to him by the legs. Byleth only had a split second to register the powdered pastry doughnut in Dimitri's arms before she realized her mistake.

"Happy bi—"

Whatever Dimitri was going to say was suddenly cut off when a compressed ball of, pillows, clothes, and Sothis knows what else flung itself into his chest, courtesy of the scrappy slingshot Byleth had created using the bedsheets and the posts of the bed.

A great puff of powder rose into the air as Dimitri was flung into the wall with a particularly heavy _oof!_

Byleth's hands instantly shot to her mouth as she nimbly jumped off the dresser. "Oh my gods, Dimitri!" she said, shocked. She knelt down next to him and gently touched his face and chest. "Are you alright?"

Dimitri simply coughed and waved his hand to clear away the puff cloud covering everything. "I'm fine…I'm fine!" he said between wheezes.

Likewise, the two children were coughing and rubbing their eyes, hunched over as if expecting a blow. Byleth's own eyes began to sting as she crouched and opened her arms. As if on cue, the two children gravitated towards her and buried their faces in her chest and arms.

"We're sorry!" Jeralt said, squeezing Byleth's neck. He shuffled slightly to free an arm before pointing a tiny hand at Dimitri, who was staggering to his feet. "It was Dad's idea!"

"Guilty," Dimitri said as he got to his feet. Byleth momentarily let go of Claudia and Jeralt to look over Dimitri.

He was absolutely _covered_ in white powder; his hair, his face, his chest—_everything_. The powdered pastry donut that he had been carrying now lay on top of his head, like a crown and Byleth couldn't resist giggling at the sight of it resting lopsidedly before sliding down his face, causing a second puff of powder to rise up.

Dimitri's hands went up to his face to wipe away the powder covering his eyes before a goofy grin overcame his expression. Byleth's eyes widened as she took a step back.

"Don't you dare—"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off when Dimitri wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into one of his signature bear hugs. Byleth squawked and tried to free herself as Dimitri rubbed his powder-covered face into her hair.

"Dimitri!" Byleth protested. "Let go!"

"Happy birthday, my love," Dimitri said, still grinning.

After struggling for a few minutes, Byleth finally managed to free herself from Dimitri's arms and looked down her nightdress in frustration. "Look at what you did!" she said, gesturing to the powder covering her front. "This was supposed to be my sleeping clothes!"

Dimitri simply shrugged apologetically and dusted off some powder on her nose. "I know," he said, smiling. "I just couldn't resist."

Byleth simply huffed and put her hands on her face. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. Before Dimitri or the children could react, she stooped down, scooped up some powder off the floor with a finger, and rubbed it all over Dimitri's face. "Ack!"

Dimitri stumbled back, grabbing Byleth's wrist and taking her with him. Laughing, the two staggered back and forth like a pair of drunk dancers, each one vying for control of Byleth's powder covered finger.

"Go get him, Mom!" Jeralt shouted, jumping up and down. Claudia simply gurgled and clapped her hands as she stumbled towards the two adults.

Finally, Byleth managed to break down Dimitri's defense enough for her to smear a haphazard smiley face on his left cheek.

"There," Byleth said, satisfied, resting her hands on her hips. "Now I'm finished."

"I'm not," Dimitri admitted as he looked over her shoulder at the children.

Jeralt shuffled nervously as his parents turned towards him, a knowing smile on their faces. "Uh, why are you guys smiling?" he asked.

"Oh, you'll see," Byleth said as she reached out towards him.

"Mom?"

* * *

Later that night, when the children were well asleep and Byleth laid next to Dimitri, fingers tracing meaningless circles over his skin, Dimitri turned over so that her face was buried in his chest.

"I love you so much," he whispered into her ear. "So…so much."

"I love you too," Byleth whispered back. She shuffled so that her head was rested against his chest, over his soothing heartbeat, and let out a deep, content sigh.

They would always be together. Forever.

* * *

A/N: fin


End file.
